Time Travel

Yesterday, I drove through some serious small towns headed southwest toward Moultrie for an annual Easter gathering. It was amazing to see the scenery change. From Savannah’s palm trees to south Georgia pine trees complete with white crosses nailed to the trunks bearing one red word, “REPENT.”
I was only on the Interstate for about 15 miles of the trip. The rest was back woods highway. It amazes me how long a highway can stretch with no interruption. No intersecting road. No gas station. Just the occassional trailer, and some buzzards.
You really have to watch your speed on these roads. You start to approach a city, and the speed limit drops quickly. 55, 45, 35. I think it’s representative of more than auto speed though. Time seems to slow down in these towns. Sometimes, it even appears to be going backward.
Part of me got the heebie-jeebies. I lived in a small town for a few years. They were great years, and I think small-town life was just what I needed then. But I don’t feel it’s what I need right now. As I drove, I’d look around and think, “what do these people do?” For fun, for food, for anything? But although I don’t want to take up residence in, for example, Ray City (don’t blink or you’ll miss it), I’m glad Ray City and all the other tiny towns I traversed still exist. I need to know there are still farms, there are still lonely highways, there are still expanses of green, scrubby trees for miles. That’s comforting.